Just a Dream
by GirlInTheMirror121
Summary: Kurt's fiance, Blaine, is in the military, and is due to return home soon, when tragedy strikes. Songfic inspired by Carrie Underwood's "Just a Dream". Klaine.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Just a Dream.**

**Note: Klaine! I know the song is supposed to be about a boy and a girl, but really, it could work for anything. If you haven't heard this song (by Carrie Underwood), I suggest listening to it while you read this. Just a warning: it's just about the most heartbreaking song you could listen to, so if you know anyone in the military…anyway, let's get on with it, shall we? **

Kurt Hummel sighed, sifting through the letters that his fiancé, Blaine Anderson, had written him over the years. He picked up one, reading it fondly. "Dearest Kurt, Iraq is nothing without you. I wish I could wrap you in my arms again, just for a moment. I only pray that this senseless war ends soon, and that I can return to you, where you, hopefully, will still be waiting for me. I love you. Forever, Blaine". Kurt felt a tear roll down his pale cheek and slide onto the slightly yellowed paper. He hoped Blaine would come home soon, for he missed him dearly. He had tried to talk Blaine out of joining the military, but Blaine felt as if he had to go. It didn't help that his father was a military man himself and was practically forcing Blaine to sign up. The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted Kurt's thoughts, and he went to answer it. He found a military official standing there, and his blood ran cold, suddenly fearing the worst.

"Kurt Hummel?" The official asked him. "Are you Blaine Anderson's…partner?"

Kurt's mouth ran dry, and he nodded a 'yes', unable to speak. "I'm so sorry," the official said. Kurt's ears began ringing, tears blurring his vision. He sank to his knees as two men brought him Blaine's dog tags, murmuring their condolences. No…no…

"I'm sorry, Kurt, but Blaine died in combat yesterday evening…"

Kurt thanked the officials quietly and closed the door, promising he'd call them soon to make funeral arrangements. He ran up the stairs, blinded by tears, falling halfway up the staircase and just sat there, crying, holding Blaine's tags close to his heart. They had told him it was quick, that Blaine had felt no pain, for it was over so fast. Even if he didn't feel any pain, no one could've ever told Kurt about the immense amount of pain that _he'd_ go through. He traced the smooth, raised letters on the silver necklace, feeling Blaine's name beneath his fingertips. Anderson; the name Kurt was supposed to take when Blaine had been deployed, which, Kurt sadly thought, was only a month from now. He was so close, and yet so far. Kurt cried harder at the image of the calendar by his bedside, with "December 1st" circled in red and "BLAINE COMES HOME!" written in all-caps in the box. Blaine had come home, all right…just not in the way Kurt had expected.

Kurt crawled up the stairs, stopping to collect himself at the landing. He shakily got up, knowing he had phone calls to make…the men said they'd contact Blaine's family, but Kurt still had to call his own family, not to mention their mutual friends. He shuffled to the phone, feeling numb. He slowly dialed his father and Carole's phone number, hands shaking, not prepared to break this news at all. He should be calling them to say that Blaine was coming home early, that they could plan a wedding date, that everything was going to work out. Instead, he was calling his father and stepmother to tell them that his fiancé was dead, died in military conflict. "Dad?" he said, his voice quavering.

"Kurt. Hey, what's up? Son? You sound upset; what happened?"

"He's dead," Kurt whispered. "Blaine's dead."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry…do you need me to go over there?"

"Yes…please, Daddy," Kurt said, feeling very much like he was five years old again.

"Carole and I are on our way," Burt said. "Hang in there, Kurt."

Kurt hung up the phone, still feeling numb. He glanced at his bedside table, which had his favorite picture of himself and Blaine in a silver frame on it. He shivered, and put the picture facedown so he wouldn't have to look at it. Sighing, he placed Blaine's dog tags in his sock drawer, burying them at the bottom, figuring he could erase the memories of today, that if he couldn't see them, Blaine was still wearing them, and was alive._  
><em>Kurt retreated downstairs when he heard his parents at the door. Carole immediately engulfed him in a hug, wrapping him tightly in her arms. Kurt wordlessly hugged her back as his father patted him on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry, honey," Carole wiped her eyes, letting go of her stepson. "He didn't deserve to die."

"It's just a dream" Kurt murmured. "I'm going to wake up any minute now."

"That's what I said when your mother died," Burt embraced his son. "It wasn't her time to go…and it wasn't his, either. Fucking war's pointless."

Kurt nodded solemnly in agreement. "I really appreciate you coming over," he said quietly.

"Of course, sweetie," Carole headed to the kitchen. "Want me to make you some chamomile tea?"

"That would be wonderful," Kurt whispered. "Thanks, Carole."

"Want me to call some people for you?" Burt asked his son.

"No," Kurt shook his head. "I'll tell them myself…and I'll make the funeral arrangements…the only thing I want you to do is be there for me."

"I can do that, son." Burt joined his wife in the kitchen, leaving Kurt to start making dozens of calls. He wrote down countless names on a pad of paper. Wes…David…Mercedes…Artie…so many friends, mostly ones from high school. Sighing, he grabbed the phone and began dialing with a heavy heart. _  
><em>It was the longest night of his life, as he cried into his pillow until he felt as if his heart might burst and break open at any given moment.

Three days later, Kurt was pulling on a black suit that was in the back of his closet. He hadn't worn it very many times; just to the occasional wake, and his dad's wedding to Carole. He really didn't want to do this. He didn't want to look at that casket, let alone put it in the ground, although he knew that Blaine wasn't in there. Blaine had written that he wanted to be cremated, should he die in combat, and Kurt respected his wishes. He'd pick up the ashes from the funeral home later; now, it was time for the formal ceremony. He drove to the church, not wanting to think about where he was going, pretending it was someone he didn't know, perhaps a distant cousin or great-aunt. He stood in the vestibule of the church with Blaine's parents and younger sister. His sister, Melissa, wearing a black dress and one of her brother's rings, immediately hugged Kurt. Kurt couldn't help to think that she was sixteen, and her only brother was dead. Kurt offered his sympathies to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson…the man and woman who were supposed to be his in-laws. The church was filled with friends and family and other military folk, men and women alike. Kurt took a shaky breath, not wanting to walk in, not prepared at all to do this.

What could've been, why couldn't he stop thinking about what could've been?  
><em><br>_Kurt was handed a flag, folded up into a triangle, to place on the casket. He took it with shaking hands. He looked to the Andersons, wondering if they should be the ones to do this, instead of him. After all, they were his family…Kurt was just the tragic fiancé. They nodded to him, telling him silently that he could have this honor. He took a shaky breath as the doors to the church opened. He watched the Andersons solemnly walk down the aisle together; mother, father, and daughter. He counted to five before following, clutching the flag to his chest. He felt as if each step towards that wooden casket was a bullet nailing his brain, his stomach, his heart. He walked slowly up the aisle, feeling his knees quiver beneath him, betraying him. Finally, he reached the front of the room, stepping forward to lay the flag on top of the casket. He let his fingers linger upon it for a moment, as if reaching for Blaine, who he knew was not there. Kurt stepped back, joining the Andersons in the first row of pews. He hung his head as the minister began to talk, wishing his alarm clock would just ring and wake him up already.

Why did Blaine have to leave him? God, it was like Kurt couldn't breathe without him.

Kurt didn't believe in God. It was a known fact that he did not believe in God, or in Heaven (or in Hell, for that matter). Yet, in that moment, Kurt wished more than ever that there was an afterlife, just so he'd have the comfort in knowing that he could one day see Blaine again. His life had become empty in these past few days—hell, these past few _years_—without Blaine. Blaine had been in Iraq for three years, since they were eighteen, and here Kurt was, at twenty-one, suddenly without the person he loved the most in the world, and he had never felt more alone in his life. Before he knew it, it was time for him to deliver his speech. He'd been dreading this moment, and had feared that he'd have to do it ever since the day Blaine stepped on that plane. He unfolded the speech he'd written down from where he'd stored it in his pocket, smoothing it out as he walked up to the podium. He cleared his throat, looked out upon a sea of familiar faces, and began to read.

"Blaine was more than my fiancé," Kurt said. "He was my best friend, too. I'll always remember the day I met him. I was pretending to be a new student at Dalton Academy, but truthfully, I was spying for the McKinley High glee club. I stopped to ask a student what was going on, and he introduced himself as Blaine. It was love at first sight. At least, on my half, it was. The next few months passed by in a blur as we went on coffee dates and sang together. "I even enrolled at Dalton for a few months," Kurt's voice broke off as he looked at Wes and David, who were trying not to cry from their seats. _  
><em>It was like he was looking at them all from a distance.

"Eventually, Blaine confessed that he had feelings for me. You can imagine my surprise—and my happiness. We started dating immediately after. And even after I transferred back to McKinley, we were still as strong as ever. When I found out he was going into the military after our senior year," Kurt broke off again to collect himself. "I was terrified. I was so afraid that I was going to…lose him…" he paused to dab at his eyes with a tissue. "We wrote letters…back and forth…for three years," Kurt choked out a sob. "And he was supposed to be…coming home….next month…" another sob. "So you can imagine my surprise…and devastation…when they told me he was…" Kurt couldn't help it. He broke into big, gasping sobs in front of everyone. "Why'd you have to go, baby? We were supposed to make to forever…_forever_…and now…I'll never know what we could've been…if we would've had children together…oh, Blaine!" Kurt put his head on the podium, soaking his written speech with tears. Carole helped him back to his seat. Kurt murmured his thanks, and wiped his tears away, trying to hold it together for the rest of the service. It's just a dream, he told himself. It's just a terrible nightmare. You'll wake up soon, and Blaine will be asleep by your side, as always. It will be okay.  
><em><br>_He'd never know what could've happened to them. Would they have had children? Would they have grown old and died together in each other's arms?

Kurt followed the Andersons in the funeral procession to the cemetery after the service. He shivered again at the sight of the gaping hole in the ground where the casket was to be put. He reminded himself once more that Blaine wasn't in there, that his body was not going in the earth, that he had to pick up the ashes after the burial. He parked his car and joined the family, seeing as how, even though the service was open, the burial was just for family and close friends. Marissa squeezed his hand as she watched her brother's casket being lowered into the ground. Kurt squeezed back, sad for her, for he wouldn't know what he would've done if he'd had lost Finn, his stepbrother. After it was in the earth and had been covered with dirt, Kurt lingered after everyone else was gone. He dropped a single yellow rose, yellow roses representing love everlasting, onto the pile of dirt. "I love you," he whispered, unable to stand there a second longer. He turned and drove back to the funeral parlor to pick up Blaine's ashes. The people there handed over the urn, and Kurt accepted it, his hands shaking harder than before, for this was truly Blaine, or, at least, what was left of Blaine.

"He's not coming home now", they all had said at the funeral. God, it hurt…  
><em><br>_Kurt was unsure of what to do now. Although Blaine had wished to be cremated, he did not say specifically what he wanted Kurt to do with his ashes. Kurt decided to just drive them home for now. It felt creepy, driving around with his dead husband-to-be's ashes in the front seat of his car. He drove home, setting the urn on his shelf along with Blaine's uniform, which had been returned to him, and Blaine's military photo. It was only a few hours before it was driving Kurt crazy to think that his dead fiancé's ashes were sitting in his living room. He picked up the urn, turning it over in his hands. He knew that Carole used to talk to Finn's father, who had also died overseas, every night. Kurt decided to try it. He put the urn on Blaine's favorite easy chair and sat down across from it. "Hi, honey," he said softly. "So how are you? How was your day?" No answer. "My day was…oh, this is stupid," Kurt said, putting the urn back on the shelf, covering it with a sheet. He couldn't do this much longer, he just couldn't. After a few more hours of mindless pacing about the house, he grabbed the urn once again and went out to the backyard with it, where he laid it under a shady tree. There, he thought. Now I don't have to sleep in the same house as a dead person. He awoke in the middle of the night, restless. He could hear the wind howling outside his window, and knew what he wanted to do with Blaine. He ran downstairs and out the door, striding over to the tree and picking up the urn with more confidence than ever. He carefully unscrewed the lid, staring into it, looking upon the remains of his beloved. He thought about it for a minute, and then retreated into the house to find a pair of rubber gloves. Once found, he went back outside, picking up the urn again. It was windier than ever, making his hair blow back and sending a chill up his spine. Kurt took a deep breath and put his hand in the urn, taking out a small handful of ash. He let the wind carry it on its back, up and away from him, from the house, from the memories. He kept reaching in and letting Blaine free upon the breeze until there was almost nothing left. He took out the last bit of ash, and closed his hand around it, bringing it towards his lips. "I love you," he whispered before setting it free.


End file.
